


A Comforting Touch

by apignamedsimon (Yoursweatsmellslikecinnamon)



Category: Demi Lovato (Musician), Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoursweatsmellslikecinnamon/pseuds/apignamedsimon
Summary: Naya comforts Demi after her X-Factor performance





	A Comforting Touch

Tonight has been my own personal idea of hell. Most people wouldn’t dream of getting on that stage and singing through a panic attack, but I did just that and now I hate myself for it. The whole world is going to judge my performance without knowing the full story. I really jinxed myself by talking about the pressure of this performance earlier in the week, and the second I hit that last note, I just wanted to sink into the ground. But no, I had to get back on that panel with my head held high and judge other people, having just proven to the world that I have absolutely no right to do such a thing.

All I want to do is go home and cry. I’ve been hiding in the bathroom and letting a few tears escape throughout the breaks, but that’s not enough to let out everything that’s built up inside me today. Although Rion sang her heart out and did an amazing job of fighting to stay, the pressure of her position just added to what was already a terrible night for me. And her song… that one always hits where it hurts. Perfect – something I have had to accept I will never be, because it doesn’t truly exist. I am perfect in my own way, but today my head just refuses to agree with this particular idea.

It’s Thanksgiving and I have so much to be thankful for, this year especially, but this is not the place to be celebrating it. I miss my family and though we’ll make up for it this weekend, it’s not the same. Then there’s the anticipation of Thanksgiving dinner, which just the thought of has already been giving me anxiety for two weeks ahead of the day itself. I’m supposed to be doing press after the show, but one look at my tear-stained, pleading face and Simon takes pity on me.

“Go,” he mouths, giving me a sympathetic look and I don’t hesitate in fleeing the room. I run straight to my car and put the keys in the ignition. It would be so easy to break down here, but I can’t. I need to get home first. I’m not the greatest driver at the best of times, but my vision is blurred by tears and so I drive the whole way home at 10 miles below the speed limit, just to be safe. I end up with 5 cars stuck behind me, their drivers honking and making rude gestures as I pull into my driveway.

“SHUT UP!” I scream as the engine goes silent, finally letting myself lose it in the safety of my own car. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” My head collapses against the steering wheel as I let out the frustration with myself that has been building up all night. After a few minutes of just sitting and taking deep breaths, I finally find the energy to get from the car up to my apartment. I avoid looking at anyone as I move through the building, scowling at an old lady who moves slowly through the corridor and slows me down. Usually I love all the old people in the building and find these things endearing, but tonight I am not myself.

As I put my key in my apartment door, bringing me one step closer to the fluffy pillows which will soon be stained with tears, the smell of roast turkey wafts through the corridor. Great, someone enjoying a nice Thanksgiving dinner. I haven’t eaten all day in my stress and the smell makes my stomach grumble, though my head tells me no. I’m going to eat so much this weekend a couple of days with no food beforehand is necessary, if I don’t want to look like a whale on TV next week. Most days I am better at controlling these thoughts, but today it seems that everything else on my mind is going to let my disorder win – and I don’t have the strength to fight it. It’s only a couple of days, it won’t do me any real harm. But that smell – I need to get away before it chokes me.

I quickly open the door and slam it behind me as I step into the room. But the smell is worse, stronger. She walks out of the kitchen wearing oven mitts and an apron and though the aroma of the food still pulls at my throat a little, just the sight of her here waiting for me silences the voices which have been whispering in my head all night.

“Hey babe,” Naya drawls, leaning against the kitchen doorway. She sticks her hip out from behind the apron, just enough for me to see that the only fabric covering it is the small line of lace I recognise as my favourite thong, the same one she wore the first time I ever got to remove her dress. My eyes travel down to see the 6-inch spiked stilettos, and up again to see there are no straps on her shoulders other than those of the apron itself. “You’re earlier than I thought, my surprise isn’t ready yet!” I gulp and somehow it opens my throat.

“Surprise?” I squeak. She has caught me off guard and while one part of me still wants to crawl into bed and let my messy tears fall, the other part of me is drawn to her in a way nobody else has ever made me feel.

“I know you’re celebrating with your family this weekend, but I didn’t want you to miss out today after you’ve been working so hard, so I’m making us our own little Thanksgiving dinner.” The little smile on her face is all it takes to break me and I fall to my knees on the soft rug, burying my face in my hands. Within seconds I feel her hand on my back, stroking gentle circles down my spine as I sob softly. My emotions tonight are like a wheel spinning out of my control, shifting with the slightest of triggers.

“Did you see?” I choke through the tears, turning my face towards her.

“Of course I did, baby,” she kneels in front of me, gripping my hands in her own. “That must have been rough and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you, but you know what? You got through it. And I am so, so proud of you for that. That’s why I wanted to do something special for you.” She leans forward and presses her soft lips to my cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?” She moves back and slides her body sideways off her legs, her barely-covered breasts bouncing a little as her naked ass hits the ground. I know that all emotions are closely linked and although I have unfinished business with my frustration and tears, Naya’s smallest actions spin the wheel again. Finally it lands on one I can deal with: lust.

“No,” I say, freeing my hand to pull her head closer to my own. I take possession of her lips hungrily and though she hesitates at first, she quickly reciprocates, understanding that right now this is what I need. I drag my lips away as my hands move to the sides of her apron, stroking the soft skin there. “You. Are. The. Hottest. Housewife. I’ve. Ever. Seen,” I whisper, punctuating every word with a kiss. My lips trail a line down to her collarbone and as my cheek brushes against her throat, I realise that my own throat is wide open once more - the smell from the oven has lost its effect on me. Her giggles turn to a throaty moan and Naya throws her head back as I show my gratitude, latching on to the sweet spot I found there the first time she ever came to my apartment.

My hands trace the curve of her spine and I pull my body closer to hers, working quickly to untie the apron around her waist and lifting it over her head. I move my head away, stopping my lips’ assault on her neck just for a moment to admire the view in front of me. It is Thanksgiving after all, and I am so thankful for the sight before my eyes. My beautiful girlfriend sits on my shag pile rug, naked except for the spiked heels adorning her elegant feet. Rivers of dark hair trail down her back, those sparkling eyes of hers hidden beneath their lids as she moans at my hands roaming gently over her body. They first travel up to her breasts, moving through the valley between them before circling back around to cup one each, the thumbs on both hands moving in circles around her dark nipples. They rest there for just a second before continuing their route down her body, one finger flicking the jewelled piercing in her belly on its way down to those perfect thighs. As much as I love her thighs, they currently hide my favourite part of her: the center which according to her moans is already dripping wet, ready for my touch.

With that thought, I have had enough of being thankful and now the hunger is back. I launch myself forward, pushing her body back onto the rug as our lips connect and I don’t hesitate for a second before thrusting my tongue in to meet hers. Without breaking contact, I move a hand down to her legs and unfold them from beneath her. I slide the fabric of her thong slowly down her legs, feeling the slight resistance as it pulls out of where it is buried between her soft flaps of skin. The fabric only makes it as far as her knees, but that is enough. The hand comes back to cup her cheek for just a second as our tongues battle before beginning its journey back down the length of her body. I shudder with pleasure at the curve of her breast as my hand runs over it, then continues along the flat path of her stomach all the way to her smooth, naked mound.

One quick swipe of my finger over her slit tells me that I was right; she is dripping. Without hesitating I bury two fingers inside her and she gasps at being filled so suddenly. My thumb presses in tight circles against her clit, just the way I know she likes it, and after only a few thrusts with her hips rising to meet me I slip in a third finger. I know that’s her limit, but the noises that extra finger produces are almost enough by themselves to bring me to my own climax. As I feel her body start to quiver beneath mine, I pull my mouth away from hers and move my lips briefly to the valley between her breasts, before latching them onto one nipple. I suck and pull lightly at the sensitive skin with my teeth, rolling the other one between two fingers on the hand that isn’t buried inside her. The noise that comes from my gorgeous girl as I feel her walls tighten is barely human, but it’s the most amazing sound in the world. That sound takes away all the troubles I could ever have, leaving me with nothing but the girl whose naked body shudders beneath my fully-dressed one.

I remove my fingers as her orgasm finishes and trace them up her body, leaving a line of her own juices that runs from between her thighs all the way up to her lips, where I let her taste herself. 

“I love you Dems,” she whispers as I press our lips together, stealing the taste of her for myself.

“Who says I’m finished?” I whisper back, smiling mischievously. I crawl off the rug and circle around her, pressing my lips to her nose from above, upside down. She tilts her head just enough to grab my bottom lip between her teeth and drag my head closer. Her chin rests between my nose and mouth as my tongue meets hers, but I don’t stop there for long. I pull my tongue away and she tries to bite to keep it there, but I have already started travelling the line I created on her body. My body hovers over hers as my tongue traces the salty skin down her chin, through the valley between her breasts, over her belly piercing and continues through the area between her thighs, cleaning whatever I managed to leave behind just a few minutes ago. Just as I begin to focus my attention on her clit, I feel a hand slide my dress up my thighs and push my underwear aside.

“Nay!” I turn my head and as our eyes meet, she grins wickedly.

“Trust me.”

The second her tongue connects with my own bundle of nerves, I feel my knees go weak – but I won’t let her win that easily. It’s hard to concentrate on the movements of my own mouth while she is working her magic down there, but as I dip my tongue through her folds into the source of her wetness I realise this is possibly one of the hottest things I’ve ever done. Suddenly, I feel her tongue moving inside me in long strokes as her thumb presses against my clit and I know that I have lost the battle. It takes everything I have in me to stay upright and I forget what my own tongue was doing in the focus it takes to keep my knees supporting my quivering body. My walls tighten around Naya’s relentless tongue and I climax silently with just a small gasp, in the way I taught myself to do many years ago. I turn my body around and collapse on the rug as my underwear fall back into place, covering the source of my pleasure.

“Naya,” I whisper as a familiar smell reaches my nose through the scent of her sex.

“Yeah?”

“I think the turkey’s burning.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally written as a birthday present for a friend, who is now my girlfriend. Good one.


End file.
